


Poetry for the Emotionally Wicked

by undeadsupernova



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 11:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeadsupernova/pseuds/undeadsupernova
Summary: This is my poetry, I hope people like it.





	1. Reputation

I bathe in the blood they doused me in  
I wash my body with the hands that roamed my body  
I dress in the jewels they made me purchase  
I trusted them when they said the bullets were removed

And I was caught red handed with a loaded weapon


	2. Rubik's Cube

You can fix a Rubik's Cube in a minute, but it took you four months to try and figure me out. I was a game you once played and got bored with. In the end you lost and gave up.

Time and time agin I told you how to play. I even finished a section for you but you refused to believe me. You doubted the rules and tried to create your own. In the end you jumbled the colors and skewed your own perception of the true final product.

I now sit here and try to do this Rubik's Cube on my own. Hours I spend twisting, turning, and rearranging. In the end I can't fix it but I have figured you out.

I now know how to play your game.


	3. Moth(s)

We are both just moths.

I am the moth that clings onto the light like Icarus clung to the sun.

You are the moth that eats at clothing.

I watch you devour the fabric and try to tell myself to focus on the task at hand. But I can't look away.

Watching the cloth deteriorate reminds me of how we were a few months ago when nothing else mattered to you except for your next fix. And I don't want to stay here any longer.

This light is fake. It holds no benefit and will only lead to my demise. I'm tired of reaching the endpoint without really getting anywhere.

I fly away, towards the open window we came in through. I turn to call out to you to join me but I don't get a response.

I have to leave you here.


	4. Sickly (Act One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
drugs, violence

Drown in your personal hell.

Stick rusty nails into your veins and pump your euphoria into your body.

Ignore me.

Manipulate me.

Chain me to your basement wall and tell me you love me when you don't.

I want to take a bullet to my brain while standing at your altar.

Tell me how being God feels.

Tell me it tastes so very bittersweet and that there's nothing more grand.

I am trying to be your savior while I buckle under the weight of your authority.

I want you to take your heroin, your meth, your cocaine and put it in one corner. Put me in the other. Now tell me which one you choose.

Because I know it's not going to be me.

Look me in the eyes and tell me you want me. Then take her hand. Now tell me which one means more.

Because I know it's not me.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me hundreds of times in the span of a year of knowing each other, shame on me.


	5. Toxic (Act Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Abuse, self-harm

You're toxic.

You keep me from being able to breathe.

You gave me radon poisoning.

Radiation doesn't compare to you.

Acid wishes it could burn my skin the same way your lies do.

I tell myself to tread lightly. I warn my body that we're entering dangerous territory.

I fucking do it anyways.

I slit my wrists with your unhinged screws and let you infect me.

Force my mouth open and pour a glass of ink down my throat.

Throw in some hot tar while you're at it.

It would hurt less than your silence when you don't need to use me.


	6. Repulsed (Act Three)

"Play it again," I tell myself as tears find their way onto the phone in my hand.

You're kissing.

You're smiling.

You're happy.

Great.

I am very happy for you.

I mask my melancholy and do what I always do.

I stand to the side and bite my tongue.

You pour the glass and I step on it barefoot.

I build you a bed while you dig your grave.

You are proud of me for staying but every moment I continue to sit here, I question myself.

You make it hard for me to love you and at the same time the love never stops flowing through the blood you consume.

You're the vampire I dreamed of and not at all what I wanted.

I am repulsed.


	7. I Am More--But

I am more than a waiting game.

I don't actively sit around like an ugly duckling waiting for you to finally love me and turn me into a swan.

But when I see you kiss other girls, Hades ignites a fire within the Underworld of my soul. When I hold your hand in my dreams, I don't see the other girls. I only see us.

I am more than a side option.

I have given you more than you deserve; I could leave just as quickly as I came and you'd be left with only my memory.

But when you say you're intoxicated, I fall to my knees and worry endlessly the entire night. It becomes too hard to leave as I wonder if you'll be alive when I wake up in the morning.

I am more than a naive fool.

I see when you manipulate me into giving you more than I am physically able to—I see when you start playing with the heart I have carved your name into with a rusty razor.

But I did want you to kiss me the first night we met. The second night we spent together, I desired the same.

I am more than a waiting game.

But I would open my door for you if you ever needed me.


	8. Tripping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: self-harm

I mistook freedom for being free

Free from depression, abusers, and high school bullies

I mistook changes for being changed

A tattoo for shedded skin, hair dye for a new identity, and a self-given nickname for chosen personality

I mistook new friends for old friends

Finding similarities that triggered my fight or flight response when neither were applicable anymore

I mistook silence for danger

If I was alone, I was lost. If I was quiet, I was searching through an abstract reality to find signs of a hovering and unwanted presence

I mistook forgotten hobbies for adulthood

With a faltering smile, I shouted, "I'm growing up" to a crowd of books dusted over like decrepit gravestones

I mistook addiction for healing

Seeing blood cascade down my thighs like tears from fallen angels and my mother

I mistook tripping for falling

But that's all this is

It's time to try again


	9. That Wasn't Me

The girl you're referencing wasn't me.

I can hardly remember her, with her green hair and her sharp talons holding chipped nail polish and a mixture of dirt and my blood underneath them.

My image of her is hazy but I can still remember little things. Like how she clawed at my thighs with her nails and left her mark permanently and how her voice flooded my mind with toxic persuasions to drive away my support system. Her fingers curled around my neck and squeezed until I lost consciousness.

I awoke in a glass box where I could watch you but you couldn't see me. She made us fight, made us furrow our eyebrows at one another and curl our lips with hot venom resting on our tongues with disgust. I tried to scream out to you that my actions weren't my own but it was no use. She already had you believing that I was the monster she possessed me to be.

When I finally broke free so I could murder her, I glanced around at the debris and the fallout of her wrongdoings. You stopped looking me in the eye and turned away. I watched you return to your safety and I held my head in shame before standing across from my perpetrator with determined eyes.

I haven't defeated her completely but I've made progress with chipping away at her armor. I cut off several inches of her hair and grabbed a pen to rewrite who I am. I've begun to start picking up the pieces.

And even though you're gone, I promise I won't stop trying to overthrow her.

It's just going to take a while but I promise.

I promise.


End file.
